


Enough For You

by an_abounding_sentiment



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Helene is not having a good time, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:06:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28038894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_abounding_sentiment/pseuds/an_abounding_sentiment
Summary: Helene doesn't argue with her brother often, but when she does, the results are often catastrophic. But not like this.  For the first time, someone is there to try and help her pick up the pieces.
Relationships: Marya Dmitryevna Akhrosimova/Elena "Hélène" Vasilyevna Kuragina
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Enough For You

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I wanted to give some timed prompts a shot, so here we are :) This one was written at insane hours of the morning in forty minutes a good five minutes ago, so it isn't exactly polished. Wanted to work on just getting stuff out there before my finals begin! Updates for the multi-chapter will likely come after that!

“No.” Helene scoffed, turning her back and beginning to walk. To where, she did not know. It could be miles, meters, towns, countries- as long as it was away from here.

Marya took a step, grasping the sleeve of the brunette’s jacket and holding her in place. “Helene you can’t-“

“I _can,_ and I can also write you a whole list of things I would rather do, and at the very, very top of it would be jump off the fucking building! Or gouge out my eyes Oedipus style! Or-“

“It’s not going to kill you if you-“

“Fuck off, Marya!” Silence. Stirring. “I don’t want to talk about it!” Helene’s voice betrayed her, tremoring. “Marya don’t make me do this. Please. I just-I just want-“

“You are clearly upset,” Marya pointed out, sighing. She didn’t know how to calm the fire that was burning right in front of her. She’d never had to. “Just talk to me, please,” Helene had always been obsessed with control. Far worse than even Marya was, but she was better at hiding it, because she focused that level of perfection onto herself rather than external results. Speaking defied everything she knew about herself. Helene couldn’t give her entire self away.

When her steps forward were unsuccessful, she shrieked. “No!” She pulled back hard and Marya let the fabric slip through her fingers, frozen. She’s never heard Helene scream before. Her eyes were wide, hands still locked in the same position, staring.

They faced one another, but didn’t look. Helene kept her eyes on the tiling, Marya on the jacket half dangling off Helene’s body. Marya didn’t put down her hand, swallowing hard when she looked at it. “Helene…” Marya, for once, sounded breathless-like all the wind was knocked out of her. It tremored, leaking her heartbreak on the ground.

Marya believed in God, but why he hurt this woman so badly she would never understand.

Helene didn’t look up, teeth grinding, burning a whole into the ground with her eyes, hoping it would cave in and let her fall. She wanted to fall and keep falling until she hit the ground. Until she was in hell with people like her and away from those who cared about her. Caring about them had never been enough, and if Helene couldn’t gain love in return, what was the point? If she would be alone forever-if she was falling from grace like the tears coming from her eyes, she wasn’t sure why her feet weren’t moving.

Her fists were clenched so tight they were shaking. She wanted to run, but now that she had the chance, every limb was like a pile of cinderblocks. Unmovable, and all while the rest of her was crumbling. Right in front of someone’s eyes: her worst nightmare.

All over a boy who never cared about her. Who she had given here whole life-sanity, safety and all to since before she could write her own name.

“Fedya texted me,” Marya finally blurted out, withdrawing her hand slowly. She knew Helene better than she knew herself. She knew Helene needed the time to calm herself down. And the redheaded woman gave it to her by filling the silence without expecting anything in return. “I haven’t texted him in months…” She continued warily, looking down at her hands and clearing her throat. Blue eyes ran over the curly-haired woman who moved sharply to cross her arms over her chest. “We only ever text if it involves one of you,” Helene bristled. Not at her voice but at the implication that she still had to be associated with him. The world was never hers; she’d given it to Anatole a long, long time ago.

“What did he say?” Helene shocked her with a response, shaky and frail. Of course Marya knew. She wanted to know just how badly Anatole twisted this.

“He said you and Anatole had-“ Just his name caused Helene to hiss a swear, groaning and burying her face in her hands, still not facing her. “A disagreement,” She concluded upon realizing Helene wasn’t going to make another run for it. With he way the night was going, it wouldn’t have shocked her. “He said some questionable things. That’s all I know,” She knew a whole lot more, and knew she was going to murder Anatole with her bare hands, though kept that private for Helene’s sake. She didn’t want to spook the girl again. Helene was eerily rational and even moreso composed; when the mask slipped, Helene’s habits became more erratic and unpredictable. She’d never be violent or cruel to anyone else, but the same couldn’t be said for herself. Marya had been dating Helene for over a year and had only seen Helene like this once, but she’d never forget that when Helene fell, she plummeted.

“What was it about?” Marya started carefully, taking a small step forward so Helene was within reaching distance if she chose to run.

“You won’t like the answer,”

“You can still tell me,” Marya urged her gently.

“The fucking-“ Helene stopped herself, swallowing down a cry before it became audible. “Natasha,” She whispered, squeezing her eyes shut, She anticipated yelling, and breaking things, and all the other temper flares she’d grown up around all her life. She did not expect the silence. “Natasha. Your goddaughter,” Helene reiterated, as if making sure Marya heard her.

“Okay…” Marya knew it from the strongly worded texts by a distant and not entirely liked acquaintance, but still stung to hear. Natasha didn’t deserve this. Helene didn’t either. “Go on,”

“He… _fuck-“_ Helene grimaced, trying to make a pull towards the door. This time she didn’t fight when Marya grabbed her wrist. “Marya,” Helene seemed to declare her name by default.

“You’re alright,” Marya murmured, sliding her hand from Helene’s wrist to their hands, fingers interlocking. She didn’t flinch as Helene squeezed them tight enough she may as well have broken them. “Talk at your own pace, darling,” Marya assured her steadily, rubbing her thumb over the back of Helene’s hand.

They stood like that for what felt like minutes, but had really only been one before Helene took a composing breath. “I don’t think Anatole cares about me anymore,”

Marya frowned. “Oh, Lena…” She clicked her tongue softly, pulling the girl by her hand into an embrace. She loved Helene dearly, with all her heart, but she feared for the brunette more often than she would ever admit aloud. The woman she loved was a realist towards the universe as a whole-more like her ex than she’d admit-but she’d do anything to keep herself from breaking. That included upholding a delusion that Anatole cared for her even close to as much as she did him. She could never be convinced otherwise. It took Helene this long to realize something they had all seen for years. He never had.

How bad their argument had to be to crack that reality for her Marya didn’t know. But she’d hold Helene through it all.

“I just-I wanted him to see it didn’t- he can’t-he doesn’t have a j-job, and he is y-young, and Natasha wasn’t right for him, because, like, he can barely cook mac and cheese for fuck’s sake-“

“You were right,” Marya pointed out softly, trying not to tear herself at the tears that seared her collarbone where Helene had burrowed herself.

“I need t-to apologize to him,”

“No, you don’t,” Marya exhaled, kissing the top of her head, hand rubbing up and down her neck. “He’s not a good person, honey,”

“Don’t say that about my brother,” Helene whined, but there was no bite to it. It was the sound of complete and utter heartbreak. She didn’t even know why she was defending him anymore. “H-he’s just,” She sniffled, “Young,”

“He shouldn’t have said what he did,” Marya didn’t know the specifics. She didn’t need to; she wasn’t going to make Helene walk herself through it again in this state. All Helene wanted was to love and be loved, and this was all she received in return. To be in tears and shaking because she didn’t know how to handle these kinds of emotions. “Look at me?” The redhead pulled back slightly to survey Helene once more, eyes filled to the brim with sympathy. “It’s going to be okay,”

“Stay with me?” Helene met her eyes, bottom lip trembling. “Oh no, you’re crying…” Helene sounded seconds away from breaking down all over again. Marya laughed softly, nodding. “I’m sorry…”

“I love you,” Marya spoke suddenly, swallowing hard. Helene seemed to pause, trying to take the information in. “I love you,” The repetition seemed to snap the distressed girl back into reality, staring at her. She wanted to say it back, but all that left her lips was a choked out sob. “I’m right here,” Not another word was spoken before Helene threw herself into Marya’s arms all over again.

“I love you too,” It was push and pull, fate unseen, unspoken words and forgiveness. Helene sobbed, and she sobbed hard, because those words were spoken to her genuinely for the first time.

**Author's Note:**

> I really, really love comments <3


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